


VR Glasses, Summer Days, & A Lot More

by Lushi



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Ikalgo and Killua are Bros For Life™, Light Angst, M/M, Out of character? Probably! Do I care? Nope!, The Killugon is not the focus. It's the angst.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:01:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25194331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lushi/pseuds/Lushi
Summary: Inspired by both EdgarIsRotating & fentykilluwat.Based on Brohemian Rhapsody by Corns, although I’ve forgotten about a good 90% of what happens in that fic. Forgive me!Part 3.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Meruem/Killua Zoldyck, killumeru
Comments: 20
Kudos: 12





	VR Glasses, Summer Days, & A Lot More

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Brohemian Rhapsody](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844376) by [korns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/korns/pseuds/korns). 



> Give us the Killumeru, Corns.
> 
> **Required reading:**  
> [ Part 1 by EdgarIsRotating ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25155919)  
> [Part 2 by fentykilluwat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25187221)

It’s hot. It’s so hot, the buzz of alcohol heating up his veins, the oppressive heat of Summer sticking fabric to his back, sweat slicked and sticky. The prickle-burn of his nose and hot searing wetness on the inner corners of his eyes. It’s hot.

It’s hot. Burning and all-encompassing as he throws down his phone onto the carpet from where he’s seated on the floor. Then promptly picks it back up, staring at the message once again. He can feel the weight of Meruem’s stare on the back of his neck, raising hairs on the nape and his arms. It almost feels comfortable.  _ Almost. _

It just doesn’t sit quite right. So he doesn’t meet it, as much as he would otherwise like to. He would like to do a lot of things, truthfully, honestly. But as much as he would like to live his life voraciously, he fears his appetite would be too all-consuming. 

So he stares at his phone. 

[ Message Failed to Send.

The message to Gon Freecss failed to send. ]

And maybe if he stares hard enough,  _ something _ will go through. 

* * *

It’s hot. The way Ikalgo sidles up next to him on their walk back, insistent on sticking by and hanging off him in desperate attempts to raise his spirits. His hands are balmy on his shoulders, warm and blistering on fevered skin. He’s a good friend, his  _ best _ friend, but there are some things he wants to keep to himself. Preferably. 

Ikalgo takes the hint and backs off, leaving the rest of their walk in silence. An astoundingly sober decision.

  
  
  
  


He cries in the comfort of his bedroom, finding company in his lonesome drunken misery.

* * *

“You’ve been pouting for  _ days, _ man.  _ Spill.” _

He’s right, Killua  _ has _ been— well he wouldn’t say  _ pouting, _ but the point still stands. His emotions have been noticeable enough that  _ Ikalgo _ of all people could tell that something was up, almost a week after Canary’s impromptu ‘party’.

It’s hot. Summer hasn’t been the kindest season, and especially not to him. The days are sharp and biting with how they boil his blood and ooze his brain out through his pores, giving him no solace in the night. There’s no chill in the air anymore, with ozone burning in his nose almost daily under the false pretense of summer storms. There’s a drought.

He glances over to his friend, sitting next to him on an isolated bench and panting like a dog. There’s dark sweat stains under his arms, inking his dark t-shirt even darker, and Killua wants to scoot away before it seeps into his own clothes. But he stays still.

“Spill  _ what? _ There’s nothing to say,” He barks, more insecure than it is viscous; but viciousness has never really deterred Ikalgo away, not from him, anyway. “I just wish I was given a bit of a warning before I got suddenly ghosted,” He spat. 

Something swims behind Ikalgo’s eyes, like two congruent points meeting after they diverge, and blinking thoughts brilliantly into existence, as if he were ever capable of such a thing. “So it  _ is _ about Gon—” He says almost too proudly, before his words begin to flounder desperately alongside various hand gestures, “Ah sorry, should I not say his name? This is probably a sore subject and I—” 

“No it’s fine, it’s fucking peachy.” He leans sideways on the bench,  _ away _ from sweaty smelly Ikalgo; but like most things he does, they do not, unfortunately, dissuade him. So he scoots closer, hooking his leg around his own as if to prevent him from bolting up and zipping away. He almost considers it. 

So he sighs, resigns himself to his fate, and opens up. His body is a chorus of belly hymns and sins leaking out from his lips and speaking words into existence, giving them power out from his brain and into the world. 

Ikalgo tilts his head and smiles, gently patting his hand throughout his scorching anger. If he is the searing and fiery heat of wildfires blazing through his own emotions, then Ikalgo is the ocean for which he can douse himself in when the fires burn too hot. 

“I just wish he actually  _ liked _ me,” He finally says, looking away from Ikalgo just after dusk befalls him. 

* * *

With the weekend came torment, twinge, and woe, a paroxysm attack on his emotions and psyche. He found himself toeing his shoes off in Meruem's home once again. Alone. Without Ikalgo this time as a buffer.

It’s hot, but not because of the summer heat, the air conditioning would prove otherwise. When Meruem hands him the VR headset, his fingers burn with brushed skin. He gulps, then slips it on.

He can’t even remember what game he’s playing, too focused on Meruem focused on  _ him. _

* * *

It’s hot, the way Meruem’s hand cups his face, leaving flushed skin. His thumb tipping his chin up. When he moves in closer, Killua feels himself flinch and jerk his head to the side, eyes squeezing shut. Lips touch the curve of his jaw, but don’t press and settle. It’s not a kiss. Meruem leans back. The VR Headset dangles from his fingertips, forgotten about.

When Killua opens his eyes, he meets Meruem’s gaze first, hard and steady, and focused on him. His sight trails down the path of his face and settles on his lips, oblique in their slant downwards. He blinks away. The silence that follows feels almost deafening on his ears. 

“Oh,” He says, and guilt crawls up Killua’s spine at how both controlled and devastated he sounds, “Did I jump to the wrong conclusion?” And almost all of Killua wants to scream  _ no, _ that he wants this, he wants so badly to forget about Gon and let himself get lost and swept up in the burning want of someone else. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that there’s a spot in his mind that keeps sweeping back to him, to his stupidly cute freckles and his fake fear of heights and his  _ asinine _ venmo messages. It’s not fair that Gon fucking Freecss has such a tight gridlock on his heart, almost squeezing it in the palm of his hand, all because he’s silly and stupid and unlike anyone else he has ever met. 

It’s not fucking fair.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Alexa, play despacito.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Books & Burgers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25350283) by [busyboys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/busyboys/pseuds/busyboys)




End file.
